


SPF 5000

by degofg



Series: Destroying My Chances Of Working In Any Academic Setting Ever; The Series (B.O.B/The Pacific Tumblr Drabbles and Prompts) [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Sailing, because you only live once, david takes joseph sailing, drabble prompts, sunburns because joseph is pasty and dumb, trans joseph liebgott, unfortunately david understand boat maintenance about us much as joseph understands sunblock, your daily reminder that david webster probably died by way of big shark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 13:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20228716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/degofg/pseuds/degofg
Summary: “We’re lost,” Joseph says again.“We are not lost,” David says.'We are definitely lost,' David thinks.[ Drabble Prompt: Webgott/Sailing/Arguing ]





	SPF 5000

“So. We’re lost.” 

“We aren’t lost,” David grumbles, tracing the map with his thumb, “we’re still on the lake.” 

“Yeah. We’re lost on the lake.” 

“Son of a bitch, Lieb,” David huffs, throwing the map onto the seat beside them, “I know where we are, we’re just-“ 

David scans the horizon for any sign of shore and sees nothing but blue waters. Joseph squints back at him, red faced from the ugly sunburn blooming up over his cheeks and nose. 

“We’re lost,” Joseph says again. 

“We are not lost,” David says. 

_ 'We are definitely _ _ lost_,' David thinks. _ _

Smoothing the map back out, David retraces their path from the port. He figures that they’re only ten or so miles out. But he’s pretty sure that they can’t swim back, and David doesn’t have a kayak or anything similarly buoyant. He looks back at Joseph, and the man looks horrible. His skin has begun to peel already, and every time he shifts his body he lets out a pained hiss. Unrelenting sunlight is not a good combination with pale skin, and unfortunately for Joseph, he’s pale as fuck and sitting outside on the hottest (and sunniest) day of the year. 

David looks back down at his map and tries to think of something else. 

“Aren’t you supposed to check your engine before you set out on the open water or whatever the fuck?” Joseph asks. 

“I did! I don’t know what happened!” 

“You didn’t check it enough is what happened.” 

“I swear to God,” David says, balling up the map and standing up, “I’m not fucking incompetent, I just missed something.” 

“How do you get lost on a lake, though?”

“I don’t know! Who doesn’t put on sunscreen before they get on a fucking boat?” 

“People who didn’t think they’d be trapped in the middle of a lake for five hours!” 

“You still put on sunscreen, Joe!” 

“I had faith in your captaining abilities! Where the fuck are we?”

“We’re on the lake!” 

“No shit, Sherlock, I mean  _ where _ are we on the lake?” 

“I don’t know!” 

Joseph squints back at David. 

“If we end up getting stranded out here for longer than a day, I’m eating you.” 

“Go ahead. I’m on a juice cleanse. I’ll taste fucking terrible.”

David plants his hands on his hips and looks around them with what he hopes is enough confidence to shut Joseph the fuck up about how this is all his fault. Joseph throws his head back and lets out a groan. He took his shirt off two hours ago after David found an umbrella for him to sit under. He presses his palm into his chest and wicks a sheet of sweat down his pec and over the twin scar curved under it. Drops of water speckle his shoulders from when he jumped into the lake to cool down. Joseph slides his arms out over the side of the boat and grip onto the back of the seats on either side of him. 

It’s probably a bad time, but David thinks he looks positively delicious like this. 

“Baby, you know how much I love you,” Joseph says, “but I’m starting to think that you can’t sail for shit.” 

“Hey. Darling? Fuck off.” 

“Or at the very least, that you can’t fix an engine for shit.” 

“Holy shit, I get it.” 

David stands there for a while trying to come up with a plan. Panic starts to worm its way into him, chewing slowly at the pit of his stomach as he thinks about the potential gravity of the situation. They aren’t going to start reenacting Castaway any time soon, of course, but dehydration? Heat exhaustion? Embarrassment from getting lost in what amounts to a big circle? All very real things to die from.

He looks back at Joseph. His boyfriend’s eyes soften, and he holds his arm out and gestures for David to come closer. David goes over and lets Joseph pull him down. 

“Don’t freak out,” Joseph says, “you’re gonna figure something out. You’re smart like that. Just tell me what your plan is.”

David knows that this- the hugging and the flattery and the soft tones- is Joseph’s way of mitigating his panic, and that should just make it worse. Something about mind games not working when you know what they are. He leans into Joseph’s side, careful to avoid touching the burnt top of his shoulder. 

“I’m gonna check the map again,” David says, staring up at the blue and white umbrella he put up over Joseph, “when I figure out where we are, I’ll swim to shore.” 

“Good idea.” 

“Then I’ll find a phone, and I’ll send them out for the boat. And you, I guess.” 

“I’m just happy to be a priority, sweetheart.” 

“And then I’m gonna take you home and coat you in aloe vera.” 

“Sounds like a hot date to me.” 

Joseph looks at the back of the boat for a moment, idly swirling his fingers over David’s upper arm, and hums. David swipes a thumb over the scar on his chest. 

"These are healing up real nice."

"I would fucking hope so. It's been six months."

"I wanted to-" David laughs to himself, "I wanted to take you somewhere where you could go swimming in peace."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Web," Joseph says, his smile crooked.

"Damn." David chuckles. "I thought I was being a real Casanova, too. I mean, a gay Casanova, but still."

Joseph kisses his forehead. They look out over the lake for a minute, and David thinks that, if it weren't for the crushing realization that he has no business navigating a boat, this moment would be damn near picturesque. All is quiet, there's a cool breeze coming their way, and Joseph is holding him. 

"There's gotta be a way to fix that engine," David murmurs. 

“Maybe I should take another look at it,” Joseph responds. 

“Be my guest,” David says, leaning away from Joseph so that he can limp his way to the back of the boat, “don’t get fucking electrocuted.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do, princess.” 

The statement has no bite, and Joseph punctuates it with a soft kiss to David’s forehead and a fond ruffle of his hair. He pops the hatch on the engine and leans in, tinkering with wires and pumps that he definitely should not be tinkering with. All David gets in response when he says so is a nonchalant wave thrown his way. 

And then, before David can even look at the map, the sky goes bright, the sea parts, pigs take flight, and the engine roars to life under Joseph's hands. He lets out a whoop and slams the lid down, beaming at David. 

“Holy shit,” David whispers. 

“Holy shit indeed,” Joseph responds. 

David gives the wheel an experimental turn, and the boat follows. He gapes back at Joseph. 

“What did you do?” 

“I fixed it.” 

“No, I-“ David sighs and flattens the map out next to him. “You can tell me when we get home.”

Joseph brings the umbrella down and tucks it under the seat while David steers the boat back the way that he (thinks) they came from. After a good fifteen minutes, David spots the levy marking the end of the no-wake zone just outside the marina. The boat doesn’t stop again, stuttering along until David can pull it into the docks and help Joseph onto the covered deck. With a half hearted sputter, the boat goes silent, bobbing uselessly in the water as it lets out one last hiss. Joseph wraps his arms around David’s waist and presses his lips to the shell of his ear. 

“I think you’re gonna need to get that fixed, baby,” he whispers.

“Shut up, Lieb.” 

**Author's Note:**

> if you have any drabble requests, please take them to @fuckoffshelton on tumblr. if my description says requests are open, then you're free to send me prompts. i ship. basically every mainstream B.O.B ship. i also really like validation, by way of comments OR hyper specific prompts that the sender very clearly wants to read. 
> 
> if you couldn't tell, i didn't edit this. like, okay, i did, but not as much as i probably should have. i wanted to get it out as quickly as possible so i could write as much as humanly possible (for me) on my weekend off. don't join the workforce, kids. it just keeps you from doing what you love; writing HBO War fan fic that would make your 50 year old italian dad cry if he knew that it existed.
> 
> don't forget; money is a lie, material goods are merely tools of an oppressive capitalist regime, and time is an illusion. 
> 
> thanks for reading.


End file.
